by James Borto
could when he wasn’t looking, but he’s holding on to his collection for dear life.” His narrative failed to soften the look Paige was shooting at her pushover of a fiancé.
“I’ll dump them as soon as he goes to bed—I promise,” Neil desperately assured her.
Paige shot him a sarcastic smirk. She would back off for now, considering there would be ample time to reprimand him later in the evening. Neil felt fortunate that Drew was there, inadvertently playing the role of buffer. Paige, after all, would never raise her voice in front of her impressionable little boy.
“Come on, baby, let’s get you cleaned up,” Paige said, before giving him a raspberry on his exposed belly.
Mother and child then marched up the carpeted stairs to the bathroom. Neil looked on with exasperated relief. He was off the hook… at least for now. He could now make good use of his alone time by crafting topics that would divert Paige’s inquisition upon her inevitable return.
With Paige and Drew fast asleep in their respective beds, Neil had free reign to relax in the living room. He sat comfortably on the brown leather sectional, his back relaxing against the arm rest, with his outstretched legs spread on the couch cushions. He was taking in the last remaining minutes of Sports Channel’s recap, when an unusually late phone call came in. It was Neil’s father.
In a judicious and somber tone, he informed Neil that his grandfather, on his mother’s side, had just passed away. Neil was devastated, for reasons well beyond the result of losing a close family member. His ailing grandfather had been well into his nineties, so his passing shouldn’t have come as a big shocker. Although there was a degree of comfort in knowing his grandfather had lived a full life, there was one detail that was immensely unsettling for him… an unfulfilled circumstance that could never be remedied.
Neil’s grandfather had never been made aware of Drew’s existence, in spite of most of his relatives knowing. He simply never brought Drew over to his aunt’s house to visit his infirm grandfather. In fact, Neil’s own parents convinced him the action would be adverse to his grandfather’s health. They justified it by saying that learning about Neil having a child “out-of-wedlock” would unnecessarily stress his heart. Regrettably, Neil caved in to his parents’ cowardly wishes out of respect, or perhaps just consideration. Who was he to bestow unneeded stress onto his grandfather? And why would he need to be a revisionist and instigate agonizing tension between himself and his family—at his grandfather’s expense.
Neil was a first-generation Assyrian immigrant. He arrived on American soil with his parents back in 1975. Coming from a strict Orthodox faith, his current domestic arrangement was heavily frowned upon by a good number of the older Assyrians in his extended family circle. Coupled with a strong ethnic background and an American upbringing, he was often in conflict with marrying his American cultural upbringing with his ethnic/religious identity. No matter how obedient, well-mannered, or empathetic Neil was to the Assyrian-American community, there were certain guidelines he chafed at being forced to conform to. Countless first and second generation Assyrian offspring became wise to this at an early age. Neil rarely complied with the overt expectations of his culture. But it wasn’t deliberate, even though it might have appeared that way to some.
Neil’s father, who displayed minimal compassion, seemed to be perpetually disenchanted with his son’s decisions. No doubt, his father had expected his son to marry a woman with the same ethnic background from a reputable family. Neil, however, invariably dated women of every cultural background except his own. He wasn’t consciously rebellious; he was his own man who leaned heavily on his idiosyncratic intuitions.
Unfortunately, his current domestic situation was the ultimate taboo for his admittedly rigid patriarchal culture. For him, to live with an unwed girlfriend and their shared child was considered an egregious act of cultural defiance. A whole host of options presented themselves regarding his predicament, none of which seemed too advantageous. Granted, he could have gotten married before the birth of his child, but Neil chose to face the family’s wrath by deciding to live with Paige and his son and to hold off on marriage. Although he and Paige genuinely intended on getting married, his family would label them as pariahs until the marriage legitimized their union.
Neil sat pensively brooding on the couch without the usual distraction of the television set to occupy his attention. He didn’t want to wake Paige and tell her the sad news just yet, assuming he would figure out by morning how to gain enough composure to tell her in a calm manner. The heavy repercussions of regret were eating away at his insides like the corrosive proficiency of battery acid. He suspected the feeling would resurface frequently in the near and distant future.
How could he ever justify his actions with his son? How could he look his son square in the eyes and reveal to him that his great grandfather never got a chance to see him while he was alive? Worse yet, how was he ever going to explain that his great grandfather wasn’t even aware of Drew’s existence? He took pride in being a role model for his son, and he was off to a disastrous start.
He tried to reminisce about the tender moments he had shared with his grandfather, but the warmness that grew with the recollections was overshadowed by his agonizing feelings of guilt. Drew was nearly three years old, and not once did he get to meet his great grandfather. This agonizing thought raced through Neil’s head incessantly. He saw no bright side to embrace in order to offset some of the misery he was grappling with internally.
Neil remembered the numerous trips to parks, arcades, candy stores, and walks to school his grandfather took with him. His grandfather’s wily smile, tucked underneath his fine, gray, bushy mustache appeared in every recollection. His grandfather attended nearly every sporting event Neil took part in, through the grade school and high school years. When Neil became an adult, he often found himself having heart-to-heart conversations with his grandpa, never allowing the generation gap to keep him from holding back any rapport for a moment.
And how did Neil pay his grandfather back for all that had done for him, for all the love his grandfather had bestowed towards one of his favorite grandchildren? Deprivation. It would have been a sweet introduction. How could Drew’s face ever cause any amount of stress on anyone? It just wasn’t possible.
How could a day that began so wonderfully conclude in such misery?
After an hour of wrenching silence had passed an epiphany sprang into Neil’s head, prompting him to leap up from the couch and race towards the kitchen. He promptly flipped on the kitchen lights as he maintained his stride. He came to a halt in front of the stainless steel sink. Hunching down, he pulled the panel door open and grabbed the plastic garbage bin. Next, he proceeded to rummage through the refuse like a police dog searching for illicit narcotics. It didn’t matter what form of waste was lurking in the plastic bag; it would not impinge Neil’s determination. He had to retrieve every single twig that Paige had tossed out, every single twig that Drew had brought home in those precious little hands of his.
Much to his relief, the vast majority of the discarded twigs had remained on the surface on the trash pile. Neil quickly snatched the twigs closest to the top. Then, he set them atop the kitchen counter. It was imperative he complete the mission before an unexpected interruption from Paige in pursuit of a glass of water, or from an ill-timed awakening by Drew. He caught sight of the remaining twigs. Unfortunately, many had slithered past a bag of Family Size Doritos and a carton of half-and-half and made their way down to the used coffee grinds on the bottom. Undeterred, he pulled out the twigs that were sitting on the used coffee filter and set them on the counter.
Only six twigs remained nestled among a sticky batch of angel hair pasta strands. Lifting the twigs out, he noticed stale pasta sauce encrusted onto a few of the remaining twigs. His scrupulous motive did not allow him to waiver. If the only burden in recovering the twigs was getting his hands a little dirty, then so be it. He rummaged through the debris again, shaking the trash bin from side-to-side
. Thankfully, there were no more twigs to dive in after.
Convinced he had reclaimed the entire collection of twigs, Neil quickly turned on the handle of the faucet. Using both hands, he cradled the entire batch and held them tightly underneath the cold running water, repeatedly rotating his hands to check for any remaining debris. After a final inspection, he returned the twigs to the counter. Next, he yanked the top drawer open and seized a box of Ziploc freezer bags. He peeled away a bag and proceeded to stuff the entire collection of twigs inside. When the last handful was inside, he gave the bag a long, hard stare. He began rehearsing his intentions in his head until he felt completely comfortable. Stage one of his plan was complete.
It was a gorgeous afternoon, practically cloudless, warm but not muggy, with birds chirping in the distance. The cemetery was tranquil and far away from the clamors of the city. The setting was befitting of the wonderful human being that Neil’s grandfather was.
An all-male gathering huddled around the fifty-something year-old priest, as he recited the eulogy in a thunderous voice. The women were scattered about in the near distance, abiding by the
